Daughter of Winter and Twilight by Helen Corcoran

Author:Helen Corcoran
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The O'Brien Press
Published: 2023-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

They step out onto a terrace.

The air is cool and sweet, late spring teetering on the cusp of summer, too hot for the clothing that keeps them from dying in the mountain, so they’re sweating and uncomfortable within moments.

Emri pulls a deep breath into her lungs. Some of the scents are familiar, but most are not. It doesn’t matter: the entangled riot of smells is intoxicating, underlaid with the tang of grass.

A pale blue swathe arches overhead, a kinder colour than the mountain sky in her dream with Twilight. Two birds spiral overhead, spinning and trilling.

Before them, terrace steps descend into a patchwork of lawns and gardens, a careful construction made to appear artful. The trees are already thick with fruit blossoms: a source of the beautiful smells. She hasn’t much of a knack for gardening, despite Grandpapa Kierth’s best efforts, but some of the planting makes her suspect these are working gardens more than a casual stroller would realise.

To her right, Melisande has been drawn to where rose bushes crowd a higher terrace and twist up the arches around tables and seats. It’s probably lovely to look at, but Emri couldn’t drink or eat with the scent of roses so thick on her tongue.

To their left, the terrace turns into a cloistered walk, arched on both sides, a cooler way to admire everything in sunny weather. Emri turns, and can’t stop herself from gawking at the immense three-tiered fountain stretching towards the building beyond them.

A marble statue stands within the main bowl, braced against those of the smaller tiers, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, her dress billowing from an invisible wind. She seems both delicate and strong, graceful and stern, her grip tight on a golden jug from which water gushes back into the bowl she stands in. The fountain is made from pale stone and marble, gleaming in the sunlight, but the only colour is in the jug, a trio of golden stars painted across the lady’s forehead, and the flame cupped in her other outstretched hand.

Aestia: Lady of Flame and Stars, goddess of Eshvon.

Emri looks behind her to stare up, up, up at the immense building made from pale marble, the spirals of its towers capped in gilt.

Yes, the Eshvon emblems on the doors were a trap – specifically for Gabriela.

They’re at the royal palace in Eshvon’s capital, the seat of the ruling family for centuries.

Emri whirls back around to look at Gabriela, who has turned ashen. She turns from side to side, as if searching for something… or someone.

As they stand on the terrace, there’s a strange tug in the air. Emri winces, before the scene blurs and drags around them, and resettles with them inside the palace.

Gabriela lets out a sound that could, charitably, be called a whimper.

Inside is blissfully cool. The walls stretch towards arched ceilings; Melisande, entranced by the intricately painted moulding, almost walks face-first into a door. The hall is small, away from the main thoroughfares, the windows flung open to let in the sweet air and views of the gardens below.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.